Iced Tea
by RanalemJones
Summary: There are two things that Sercë is sure of. One, he has never been this pissed before. Two, there is no way that someone could be this stupid.


Light shone through the milky cold brew coffee as it slid its way across the countertop. The short barista forced a smile on his face as he called out the order. The customer put away their things and thanked him as they took their drink. Sercë nodded, hiding his hatred towards humanity as he stepped into the break room, and slumped against a chair that made his ass wish for the velvety plush of his bed.

He silently cursed his father for forcing him to get a job at this hell-hole of an establishment. The only thing keeping him from running away screaming was the fact that he didn't have his own house yet. Student loans are a bitch, though, so what can you do.

A bell rang and he put his head in his hands. Is two minutes too much to ask? He was answered quickly as a voice called for him to get moving. Muttering a curse under his breath, he stepped out from his hiding place and made his way sluggishly behind the counter.

With a grimace disguised behind a half-assed smile, he issued the standard greeting to the customer. "What can I get for you?" he asked through gritted teeth.

The man furrowed his heavy brow and stared at the menu intently. Sercë took the opportunity to really get a look at him.

His eyes widened as he took in the sight of the massive person, and he immediately got the feeling that, if he wanted to, this man could snap Sercë in half. Of course, being the stubborn tool he truly is, he would never admit it.

His arms were as thick as logs, with shoulders so broad that Sercë couldn't picture him fitting through the doorway. His lower jaw protruded slightly forwards, giving him a noticeable underbite. His hair hung down in a tightly woven braid that fell down to his lower back.

Of course the strangest thing to Sercë was that he was wearing a tailor made suit, and a nice one at that. On the other hand, he seemed to lack the mental capacities to tuck his shirt in, or  
decide whether to roll his sleeves up or leave them cuffed around his wrist.

To be honest, he was really pissing Sercë off.

"Hey, big guy," he said after a solid twenty seconds, "are you ready to order or not?"

He looked looked down at him with eyes that simultaneously looked like they'd seen too much, and hadn't seen anything at all.

Sercë tapped his finger impatiently. "How about coffee?" he asked. No response. His left eye twitched in irritation. "Tea? How's tea work? I can get you some iced tea. Does that sound good?"

The man looked back up at the menu. There was a pregnant pause.

He gave a slight nod. "Tea is good," he said in a deep, gruff voice. Sercë felt it rumble through his chest.

"Iced?" he asked after a second.

He closed his eyes for a second, as if in great thought. He folded his arms together and frowned. Sercë stared up at him in amazement. He started tapping his foot.

The hulkish person nodded slightly. "Yes."

Sercë sighed. "Will that be everything?" he asked. As his eyes gazed back up at the menu, Sercë immediately felt a surge of regret course through him.

"Okay, good!" he said, interrupting the man's thought process. "What size? Large? Let's make it a large, shall we?!"

The two of them made eye contact. After a moment's pause, he responded, "You mean venti."

Sercë slammed his fist into the cash register. "Yes!" he responded a little too loudly. "Yes," he repeated. "That. That is what I meant."

The man looked up. "I thought so."

Sercë's eye twitched violently. "Your total. Will be $3.95."

Sercë felt his throat tighten as he watched him fumble through his pockets. He tapped his fingers against his arm quickly as he watched him pull out a card, put it back in his pocket, and pull out a different card.

He looked at his credit card, as if trying to decipher some sort of hidden code that only he could see. "Do you accept Visa?"

Sercë's jaw fell open. "Do we accept… _Of course_ we accept Visa!" he shouted. "I mean," he said, looking back into the break room. " _Yes._ Yes we do."

He looked down at the card reader and readied his card. Any hope Sercë had left immediately escaped him as he watched him swipe. When it was rejected, he watched him swipe the card again.

"No you need to-" He swiped again. "You need to use the chip." _Swipe._

Sercë felt his anger boil over. He snatched the card out of his hand.

"See?" he said, shoving the card into the chip reader. "Like _this,_ okay?"

The customer blinked as he looked down at the card. He looked up at Sercë, who was certain that he was about to get wailed on.

"Thanks," he heard, after a second.

"Yeah," he responded. "Anyways, what'll be the name for the cup?"

The man looked at him. Sercë was in hell. It had to be true.

"Stök," he said as he took his card out of the card reader. Thank god.

Sercë blinked. "Stök," he repeated. Stök nodded.

Sighing, he wrote the name on the cup. "Alright Stök, it'll be done in a second."

Stök looked over Sercë's shoulder. "You spelled it wrong," he said. "It's S-T-Ö-K, not S-H-T-O-C-K."

He was dead. It was official. Scribbling out the name, he rewrote it without breaking eye contact.

"Okay, _Stök,_ " he mumbled. "Just. Wait over there."

Stök walked to the other side of the counter. As Sercë made the iced tea, he felt a little off. His hands were a little shakier than normal, and he almost screwed up the order. This guy. This guy. This god damned guy had destroyed what little pleasure he had left.

He put the lid on the now finished iced tea. He slid it across the counter to Stök. "Your order's ready," he muttered. "Have a nice day."

He moved to return to his sanctuary of the break room, but before he could even turn around, he felt a massive hand gripping his forearm.

He made eye contact with Stök, who was leaning across the counter to get more level with him. Sercë opened his mouth to try and slip out some sort of objection to whatever the hell this was supposed to be, but Stök beat him to it.

"Thank you," he stated.

Sercë blinked, dumbfounded. This guy was too bizarre to be real. There was no way someone could be this strange.

"Yeah," he replied, looking away. "You can stop with the awkward as fuck handshake now."

Stök obliged and took his hand away, but he did not take his gaze away. "I will return later, but I have work to do now," he said. And with that, he left the coffee shop.

Sercë just blinked. Without another word, he turned on his heels, and thanked a higher power for the sweet release of the break room, before he had to deal with anyone else as strange as Stök.

As if _that_ was possible.


End file.
